


The RED Hood

by Askell



Series: If the kids are united [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bad Puns, Communism, Crack, I definitely played all the engels, M/M, Memes, Millennials, Stupidity, this marx the end of my career as a serious writer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 06:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13542042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askell/pseuds/Askell
Summary: Why did you tell the press Bruce forbade me to date him... because he's a communist?!OR what happens when you convince your little brothers that some words are synonymous





	The RED Hood

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% pure crack humor, continuity just flew through the roof never to come back again. My brain is fried from sleep deprivation and influenza, sorry about writing something so stupid.
> 
> I'm so happy of the positive reactions you guys had to the previous chapters of this string of silliness, thank you so much for your comments and kudos! This fanfic is inspired by various chat conversations I've had with my political science pals, which will recognize themselves (les vrais savent tmtc frer).
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy~

It was -blessedly- a slow day in Bludhaven. And one with a nice weather, which was suspicious. They even had Bill ‘No Spoons’ Kinners, handcuffed on the backseat, an occasion rare enough to be celebrated. Something was amiss. Hadn’t years of vigilantism trained him to recognize a trap, he would have still experienced that sort of gut feeling people got just before the other shoe dropped. 

“Sunny sunshine ain’t common in the region,” said Bill from behind the reinforced grid panel, watching the buildings go by through the window.

“Enjoy it while you can Mr. Butterknife, because you ain’t gonna see much of it for the next six months,” snarled Dick’s partner in return, his lousy attempt at humor only angering their perp.

“It’s ‘No Spoons’, you fucking reprobate! D’you know why they call me that?”

“Because you’re Chinese and they use chopsticks?” 

“Wow Chris, that’s offensive,” commented Dick.

“Yeah wow, hope you’re gonna report his ass Mr. Handsome.”

“It’s Officer Handsome,” Dick grinned, never resisting a good joke.

“Well, just makin’ conversation and all, you got any sibs in the hood?” said Kinners, scratching his chin with false disinterest. If only all criminals could be stopped because they were too distracted looking at his buttocks, the world would be a more secure place.

And did Dick have a ‘sib in da hood’. A firetruck red hood with dumb voice modulators and allegedly a head-sized home cinema. Though, to bring up the subject of their parenthood was opening a whole lot of moral and legal issues he was not yet ready to deal with.  
Especially since a few unfortunate shots of Tim and Jason had become viral earlier in the week. Bruce publicly expressed his disapproval, forbidding the relationship. They were only holding hands and talking, but definitely not in a brotherly way. Hadn’t Jason looked like a punk prostitute because he just came back from an undercover job, the shots would have almost looked candid.

Speaking of the devil, his phone went off in his pocket. 

_From Jaybrid: tell your brother he’s forgiven for his sins lol_

Frowning, Dick replied asking what the well he was talking about. They were a few minutes away from the precinct, and at noon traffic jam was usually awful. With Chris doing the driving and the bickering with Kinners, he allowed himself to focus on their texts.

In lieu of any clear answer, Jason just sent him a short video. He recognized the set as Gotham’s 24News station, bought by Bruce a few years ago in an attempt to better control the flows of rumors and scandals surrounding the Wayne’s public personas. A woman with a too-bright smile was seemingly intimidating a very anxious Damian. Listening with one earbud to the interview, he was nearly responsible for a small car accident when he spat his coffee on the windshield. 

A few hours later, he was still holding his ribs for fear that their constant shaking might actually break them. Dick was also biting the inside of his cheek very hard to keep from grinning. A failure. 

In front of him at the table, Tim kept a careful pokerface but the glint in his eyes didn’t lie. Alfred harbored his usual ‘I’m too old for your cow crap, young men’ expression, sliding them tea cups. Jason, describing his arrival as fashionably late, wore a loosely tied red flag over his shoulders, a very recognizable symbol badly drawn on the forehead of his helmet. Damian was petting a huge angora cat and ignoring them all, as usual. Bruce… well. It was difficult to decipher if he was battling a bad case of the runs, or if they were all grounded for the following 54 years. 

“Damian, what on Earth were you thinking,” he growled, using his Batman voice.

“For full disclaimer, I insist on blaming Tim as instigator of my misguided answer.”

“What did you tell him, Timothy?”

Throwing lightning with his eyes across the table to his little brother, the Red Robin crossed his arms and tried to look detached.

“It is entirely Jason’s fault for sending me ill-advised memes.”

“What is that,” asked Bruce, clearly regretting ever adopting millennials.

“Oh, really brave Timmers, blame the dead guy! And, uh. It’s funny pictures, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Excuse you, I am perfectly capable of humor.”

“Clearly,” Jason snickered, adjusting his makeshift cape. “But yeah, it’s totally Dick’s idea.”

“Hey!”

Letting out a long sigh, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. Why did he ever think adopting sons was a good idea. Why didn’t he have only intelligent daughters, like Cassandra? A memory of the girls overflowing the interior pool with ‘bath bombs’ as well as, accidentally real bombs came to his mind. None of those punks deserved him.

The interviewer had looked puzzled when falsely shy Damian had answered her question. Then she had very obviously looked away not to lose it on live TV. Of course she would ask why Bruce forbade his son from dating another man. Was Brucie Wayne a homophobe, which would have clearly been the hypocrisy of the century given his… accointances? Was it because even he was afraid Wayne Enterprise would lose the trust of its investors? No further comment had been made, so she’d taken things in her own hands. It was dirty to use a child to obtain a scoop, but it was also dirty to pay reporters such risible salaries.

“Your father’s declaration last week was surprising, to say the least. Could you shed some light on the reasons behind such a strong opposition? What do you think of your brother’s relationship with that man?” she’d asked, not really sure if 13-years-old Damian would understand her question. You never knew, with teenagers.

“Drake’s sexual proclivities do not interest me. Even if he’s dating a ‘bloody communist’, quote on quote.”

“...Did Bruce Wayne disapprove of his political opinions?” she said, confused.

At that moment in the video, Damian had looked equally as confused. He wasn’t that easy to read, usually. However, a few seconds of intense reflexion later, he was sprinting out of the studio, fratricide on his agenda.

“Which one of you convinced him that communist was a synonym for criminal?” asked Bruce flatly. 

Every one of his sons managed to look away at the exact same time, even Jason and his USSR flag-cape. His snickering however echoed in the awkward silence.

“Something funny, Jason?” he grunted.

“Well, you know, the best thing about communist jokes is when everyone gets them…”

Never had he thrown a batarang with such precision at someone’s head. Which only bounced on the hammer and sickle symbol the imbecile had adorned his helmet with.

“Now someone’s starting to see _red_ ,” snickered Dick, his high-five immediately reciprocated by his younger brother.

“Dick, that last pun certainly lacked any class, to the point where it becomes revolting” commented Damian, not understanding why his brothers suddenly burst with laughter.

“Master Bruce, please remember that keeping your cool in any situation is… capital,” added his butler, straight-faced as ever.

_Et tu, Alfred?_


End file.
